This is just an idea I had one day. Ironically, I actually started this fanfic out as a one-shot but then changed my mind as it seemed to have potential to carry on...

Well, I suppose I won't ramble on too much. Please be sure to READ AND REVIEW :D I hope that you will enjoy it...if not, please tell me!

Disclaimer: I will say this one time only, since I aparently have a bad case of short-term memory loss. (winks) I do not own Harry Potter or any of the existing characters. They all belong to the Maginficent J.K. Rowling. :)

Now, let's begin!

Chapter One: The Troublemaker

"You know, for such a supposedly bright witch, you sure are boring."

Hermione Granger frowned and glanced up, a look of questioning plastered on her face. The sound of a scratching quill immediately halted as the face of a young, teenaged scowling wizard obscured her vision.

"Really?" she asked, her tone amused. She leaned slightly in her chair and crossed her arms. "I'll be sure to remember that while assigning you your detention, Mr. Malfoy." She shot him a sweet smile before once again bending down and returning to her paperwork.

The young wizard only glared at her in return. The sound of a quill grazing a yellow sheet of parchment was making him dreadfully bored, and the owner of the said quill obviously did not care to hear his voiced opinions.

Scowling, he leaned back in his chair and amused himself by watching tiny wisps of her brown frazzled hair float unsuspecting above her head. How in the world did she ever manage to sprout such an ugly bird's nest on her head in the first place? Surely, it must have been due to some magical accident when she was younger because surely Mother Nature couldn't be so evil.

Snickering silently to himself, the boy carelessly ran his fingers through his hair. It was soft and silky – trademarks of his family name. Judging from his looks, he was an icon on sight; according to many people, a darling reproduction of his father.

Scratch. Scratch.

The young wizard groaned out of boredom, but the bushy haired witch hardly paid him any heed.

If only I had my wand, he thought impatiently, drumming his fingers on the desk. Slowly, he pictured it in his mind, his poor, defenseless wand being tortuously drowned somewhere in a gooey, thick substance that closely resembled an old toad's vomit…

The student grimaced at the thought of the evils possibly done on his precious possession. And none of it was fair! It wasn't fair that he even got sent to the headmistress's office in the first place. If it wasn't for that stupid Weasley boy…

FLASHBACK

"You're putting this in all wrong!" an orange topped boy scolded Drake. He immediately grabbed the wizard's arm and jerked it away from the potion, which in turn, hissed venomously at the two of them.

Drake scowled and yanked his arm away from his partner, who was now frantically trying to correct his mistake. Graced with pale blonde hair, startling gray eyes, a prominent chin, and a very sexy smirk, Drake was, needless to say, a Malfoy in the least. And Malfoys definitely did not have idiotic Weasleys touching their beloved limbs.

Just as he was about to reprimand the idiot, he was abruptly interrupted.

"Look what you've done now!"

Aston Weasley shot him a glare that could probably rival his own. The potion, now a bright red (it was suppose to be a subtle turquoise), cackled maliciously. Tiny bubbles began to form on the surface, and if anything, it looked like it was about to blow.

Drake smirked.

Truthfully, the young Slytherin was bored. He didn't like his classes; in fact, he was anything but studious, much to the displeasure of his father, who apparently was brilliant or whatever. But to him, classes were always going to be a complete waste of time; potions, especially, since Professor Pyralis – a new professor, no doubt – seemed so keen to have paired him up with a disgusting inferior whose hair resembled a pile of mashed pumpkins. Not to mention that the old klutz was highly discrimating towards all children, rarely giving them a chance to explain themselves before sending them off to receive punishment. How the old wanker got the job in the first place, Drake couldn't figure out. He was clearly inadequate.

Well, as the saying goes: desperate times call for desperate measures.

With a faint scheme starting to brood in his mind, the 13 year old Slytherin took a quick glance around the room. No one seemed to notice that their potion was malfunctioning terribly. Slyly grinning to himself, he gave a hard poke to the cauldron before leaning back and faking innocence. In slow motion, it gradually began to fall...

Drake leaned back and grinned as gravity had its way. Only a few more seconds now, and the dungeon was about to turn into mad chaos…

"ARGGGGGGGGGGG!" The Weasley boy let out a howl as the hot contents of the potion spilled on him.

And then…

CRASH!!!!!!!!!!

The desired effect was nearly immediate. Screams erupted, and there was a frantic pushing of chairs as students scrambled away from the red liquid, which was now gradually seeping on the floor.

"I can't believe –"

"Aaaaaah! It's on me! It's on me! Potter get it off – "

" – my homework! That was my bloody home-"

The boy emitted a loud strangled noise as the potion consumed his Transfiguration essay. It disappeared easily, burning to ash before anyone could make a move to scoop it up. Meanwhile, a girl in the corner was sobbing noisily as the fluid seeped into her shoes.

"This is all their fault! If it wasn't for bloody Weasley and Malfoy –"

"I c-can't believe it! My essay! I spent hours on that thing –"

"My shoes! They were designer, you know –"

"QUIET!" Professor Pyralis stood towering above all the third years, who were all now huddling and whimpering together, eyeing the potion as if it was a deadly poison. His glittering brown eyes surveyed the mess before stopping at Weasley's stunned form. "Well, Mr. Weasley?" he asked silkily, his voice soft and quiet. "Would you care to explain what happened?"

Drake hid a sneer. Trust Professor Pyralis to give the credit to a bumbling flobberworm like Weasley. But anything was fine with him, as long as he himself could avoid detention.

The redhead turned a bright tomato color. "It wasn't me Professor!" he shouted loudly. "Why don't you ask Malfoy over there; I'm sure he knew perfectly what happened!"

Drake's head immediately shot up, before scowling angrily. Perhaps blaming it all on Weasley wasn't a bad idea at all now…

The whole class stared at him, as if waiting for an explanation. The whole room was silent, with the exception of Brown's banshee-like sob. When he offered no explanation…

"Detention," Professor Pyralis declared softly. "And 20 points from Slytherin. Yes, Drake," he said as the boy opened his mouth in protest, "I dare to take points from my own house. Now, seeing that my office is apparently unfit for evaluation, I require that you go see the Headmistress at once."

When Drake's feet didn't move, he continued. "Very well, then. I suppose another 50 points from Slytherin will suffice greatly…"

The Slytherin scampered out of the Potions classroom as fast as his legs could carry him.

END OF FLASHBACK

Drake Malfoy glowered angrily at the bushy brown head who kept on acting like she was better than him. Sure, she was the bloody headmistress, but after all, nothing but a mud –

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked pleasantly, lifting her head to face the angry adolescent. He, no longer bored now, was scowling furiously to himself all the while muttering words such as "my father", "detention", and "bloody mistress" under his breath.

Hermione felt herself grinning. The boy is an exact replica of his father, she mused to herself. And pretty soon, the words that she was waiting for burst out from his lips.

"Wait until my father hears about this!" Drake cried crossly. "He will…he will –"

"He will, what?" Hermione asked, still grinning that smile of hers. "Believe me, Mr. Malfoy, I have known your father for many years, better than you may think. I doubt that he can do much harm towards me. Now, if you will kindly tell me –"

"How dare you!" The mischievous wizard rose suddenly, fists clenched into a tight ball. "How dare you mention my father's name from your filthy mudblood lips -"

"That's enough now!" Hermione said sternly, peering at the twitchy boy distastefully. "There will be no need for pointless name-calling now." She glared at him strictly before continuing. "I will notify your father immediately to inform him of your ungracious behavior this evening. And I will once again, take pains, to remind you that as a student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly, there will strictly be no derogatory terms –"

But Drake Malfoy wasn't listening. Instead, he sat down and fumed. Soon however, his frown was replaced by a little smirk that was enticed from a comforting thought that he just had. Little did she know, he already called his father in…Surely he will deal with her.

He smirked to himself again, causing the Headmistress to stop in mid-rant.

"Are you listening to me, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked him, furiously trying to sound patient. How in the world did Dumbledore manage to do it? Surely, such students ought to be expelled…

Suddenly, a squeak sounded besides her. Hermione blinked at the sudden interruption and turned her head to reveal a blundering house-elf who was shooting nervous looks at her. Obviously it had sneaked away from the kitchens.

"Well?" she asked, her voice instantly softening at the elf's anxious glances. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

But just as the elf opened her mouth to speak, a loud resounding crash was heard at the front of her office. Several portraits yelled in their paintings as someone forced their way into her workplace.

Angrily, Hermione tore herself from the house elf and refrained herself from yelling. Couldn't they just bloody knock? she thought wrathfully. Honestly, the manners these days…

Her eyes then fell to Drake, who was sitting there smugly, his arms folded satisfactorily across his chest. Just when she was going to ask the boy why he was acting so superior, a familiar voice sliced through her thoughts.

"Well, well, well, Granger," a cold, icy voice drawled casually. A tall wizard emerged, his gray eyes flashing at her in amusement.

"It seems as if we have some problems here…some that I could potentially…do away with."

Hermione nearly fainted from gripping the desk too tightly. Slowly, she nodded.

"Mr. Malfoy. How nice to see you."

There you have it! Again, I really hoped you liked it.

Please don't forget to REVIEW! Every single comment makes me go all bonkers and happy.

Please make my day. :)